No Light No Hope
by CassianSage
Summary: Angst fic. Bones has a hard time dealing with the curveballs life throws him. Eventually kirk/mccoy. Overall rating: M
1. The Justice of Suffering

No Light No Hope

**Title:** The Justice of Suffering  
**Author:** CassianSage  
**Fandom: **reboot  
**Pairing:** Kirk/McCoy  
**Rating: **T I guess. I'm still pretty new at this. There's blood and some swearing. No porn yet. It'll come (no pun intended).  
**Words: **roughly 3,003 or so.  
**Disclaimer: **If only I owned Star Trek. That would be pretty great. But alas, I do not, so I get by simply by writing my own little bits of nonsense, imagining that the characters are mine.  
**Summary: **Inadequate. The one word Leonard McCoy hated almost more than "failure". Unfortunately, both seemed apt descriptions of himself. There was his failed marriage, failure at pleasing his wife in life, in bed, in purely existing…  
**Notes:** Written for a prompt found on the Star Trek kink meme. Sorry, I don't want to spoil too much. Just read it if you like a bit of angst. This is the first part of God knows how many which belongs to a series entitled No Light No Hope. Please don't shoot me for my bad writing. I'm sensitive, not a Vulcan. _\\//

_I. The Justice of Suffering_

Inadequate. The one word Leonard McCoy hated almost more than "failure". Unfortunately, both seemed apt descriptions of himself. There was his failed marriage, failure at pleasing his wife in life, in bed, in purely existing. Failure as a father-figure after the unexpected birth of little Joanna McCoy. That one hurt even more than the lost marriage. Buried in work at the hospital, he missed her first steps, the first childish words to spill from her lips, seeing her brown curly locks being trimmed for the first time, the first grin to spread across her face not caused by gas, everything. And then, the coup de grace: his father's death.

Men grow old and die. Leonard knew that, but David McCoy didn't die of old age. After a long battle with a painful degenerative disease, he had begged for death from his son, pleaded until Leonard could no longer refuse the last request of a dying man. There was no doubt he would die; Leonard couldn't find a cure after years of painstaking research. So he finally released the man from the painful yoke he carried, releasing him into death's cold embrace.

Not two weeks later, groundbreaking research was uncovered which led to a cure less than a month later. Already plagued with guilt, this news from the medical world only tore him apart further. If he had only been stronger, had coaxed his father into staying strong for a few more weeks, he'd still be alive. Instead he was left with no one. No mother, no father, no siblings. And soon his wife and daughter slipped away too.

By the time the divorce papers were finalized and the custody hearing over, McCoy had fallen into the welcoming arms of alcoholism. Sort of. He wasn't an alcoholic really. He just felt the need to control his suffering after years of letting life beat him. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped that the dizzying effects of the booze and the pounding headache afterwards would somehow fade all the hurt in his life. It didn't really, but it seemed to make the pain more bearable.

It was in his liquor-crazed stage in his life when McCoy had met one James Tiberius Kirk on that fateful day in Iowa. He decided that getting as far away from his guilt as possible was a good idea. And, of course, Jocelyn had taken everything from him in the divorce. He was really left with little choice but to join Starfleet.

McCoy had recognized another troubled soul in Jim almost immediately. Maybe that's what had unconsciously attracted Jim to Bones (the kid's ridiculous nickname for him) as well. When they departed the shuttle in San Francisco, McCoy was still particularly shaken and thus was escorted off with Jim's supporting arm around his waist and his own arm draped over Jim's shoulder. Three years later, McCoy would find their positions reversed when he sneaked Jim onto the Enterprise.

Bones told himself then, that it was only natural to sneak Jim on board after he was grounded for cheating on the Kobayashi Maru test. He tried to convince himself that it was because it wasn't fair for someone as brilliant (not that he'd admit it to Jim) as Jim to be stuck on the ground while the rest of the incompetent cadets (and Bones knew a surprising number of incompetent cadets) flew off to Vulcan. It certainly wasn't because he couldn't imagine going into deep space without Jim by his side. That's what he told himself, anyway.

It was the first impulsive thing Bones did in his life. He knew the consequences would find him after everything was over, but it didn't matter. And in the end, it was a really good thing he had sneaked Jim aboard. Earth wouldn't exist anymore otherwise. The names of billions of innocent people would have been added to the already staggering list of casualties between the destroyed armada of Federation ships and the loss of Vulcan.

Bones was just happy to still have Jim once the whole incident was over. He could've been killed at least a thousand times that day, just another death in the sea of faceless casualties all blended together. Of course to Bones, he wouldn't have been just another faceless person. And each time he tried to imagine life without that constant bitching annoyance that was Jim, his chest felt heavy and he had to remind himself how to breathe.

So each time they were separated when Jim was being reckless, the other thing that was very Jim, were pure torture for Bones. Jim willingly freefalling to his death, banished on some goddamned planet they knew nothing about, beaming aboard a Romulan vessel that looked more like some giant hairy pinecone to get Pike back, getting his ass kicked all the way along.

He wasn't used to not being able to look out for Jim all the time. It's what they did for each other at the Academy. Bones patched up Jim whenever he got into a fight and kept him from getting himself killed and Jim pulled him out of his drunken stupor long enough to show him how to live. So, he could've kissed Jim the moment his scrawny ass appeared on the transporter pad supporting the weight of Pike. He didn't, though he wanted to.

Bones praised every deity he could think of when Jim was given the Enterprise. Actually, he praised deities after he learned that he had been permitted to keep his status as Chief Medical officer aboard the flagship of the Federation. He knew that if he had been placed on any other ship, he would've declined and requested a posting planetside somewhere. There was no way he would be braving the unknown without his best friend, his only friend really. He knew that Jim didn't want to be separated either, but until they heard the news, he had still seemed more calm than Bones looked and felt. Still, it was good to see Jim's sincere look when he told him that he would be honored to have Bones as CMO on the USS Enterprise. Bones had accepted with a growl about how someone would have to keep Jim safe in that disease-ridden danger trap they called space. Life seemed okay again. They were still together.

Bones always thought that as long as he had Jim as a friend, he could be happy. He was wrong.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They hardly used pills of any sort anymore. Pills were old-fashioned and generally inadequate compared to the quick relief provided by a hypospray. Of course, there were those who for whatever reason reacted adversely to certain hyposprays and thus both patient and doctor preferred the use of these "old-fashioned and outdated pills". James Kirk was one such person, among a handful of other crewman from varying alien species aboard the Enterprise. There were also a small number of medicines which, for some reason, were incompatible with the standard hypo solution. These few medications then still had to be administered orally.

Even with a shortage of little capsules on the Enterprise, it was not hard for Leonard to acquire them. He was a doctor, damn it! And being a doctor, he also knew to steal only what he needed. It would be stupid for an innocent member of the crew to die all because he got greedy. Spock himself might have approved of the logic behind that, even if he undoubtedly would call exactly what the doctor was doing completely illogical. But then, there were many things that the hobgoblin certainly didn't understand, probably because of that green blood of his.

Leonard was extremely cautious with his preparations, especially around his best friend. It pained him to have to lie but Jim was way too nosy for his own good and would push and prod relentlessly if he thought something was wrong. So he was careful to act naturally around Jim, joking and scowling and frowning at all the right times. Sometimes he longed to tell Jim just how he felt, that after so many years of aching pain and guilt, he found he could love again with a force that kept him awake at night, that his jealousy flared every time he saw Jim flirting even casually with someone, that the heaviness in his chest nearly tore him apart each time he thought that this Away Mission would be the one Jim didn't survive. But he never did. Jim didn't feel that way about him. He knew every look in Jim's blue eyes and never was the look of lust or desire directed at him.

That was part of the final straw—what pushed him over the edge, well, that and the message he'd received from Jocelyn two weeks before. The message had thrown him back into the bottle, only for one night. Leonard had sobbed into his bourbon with shaking tremors until his eyes felt raw and his throat ached. He had awoken with one of the worst hangovers he'd had since his days at the Academy, but it was worth it. He deserved to suffer. There was somehow a justice being served in feeling that kind of physical pain.

The decision seemed so easy after that. It wasn't even a decision because there really were no other options. He didn't have Jocelyn (not that he really wanted her) or Joanna and he could never have James T. Kirk. And even if he somehow managed to claim Jim as his own, he knew that someday Jim wouldn't come back, or in other words, one day Leonard would fail again and once more something dear to him would be torn away, ripping away with it another piece of his rapidly-crumbling sanity. The prospect of feeling the hollow emptiness accompanying a loss being added to his already heavy load was too unbearable for words. Leonard had no one left and he needed to relieve the pain somehow.

It was a quiet day, and McCoy felt on edge throughout his shift. He was anxious for it to end so he could get out of there quickly. With his distracted manner, he hoped no serious cases would pass through sickbay that day. He didn't want to kill anyone because he was too distracted to focus adequately on his work. Funny how even with what he was doing to himself, the oath he had taken to do no harm was still important to him. In the past, be probably would have laughed at the thought. But then again, in the past, he wouldn't have found himself in this situation at all.

The day was, thankfully, fairly uneventful. A few crewmembers came in with injuries sustained in a sparring match. Nothing dangerous—a broken nose, a couple bruised ribs and some minor lacerations here and there. Later a young lieutenant from engineering came in with nausea and vomiting along with dizziness and fatigue. McCoy had the pleasure of informing the bewildered girl she was pregnant. It was basically business as usual. McCoy made the normal rounds, checking the patients still residing in sickbay, going over old medical reports.

He sighed when his shift finally ended, gave Nurse Chapel final instructions regarding patients and slipped out of sickbay to his quarters, which blessedly weren't far because he was CMO. He felt surprisingly almost calm as he traveled back there. Of course, why should he be nervous? He wanted, no, he _needed _this.

Leonard had only been in his quarters for a few minutes when he heard the comm unit on the wall beep followed by "Kirk to McCoy, you there?" He sighed. Of course this wouldn't be as easy as he had planned. He slowly walked to the comm unit on the wall and pushed the button.

"Yeah Jim, I'm here. What do you want?" He grimaced. The words came out a little harsher than he had intended. Jim would notice.

"You alright?" Yup, he definitely noticed. There was a heavy note of concern in even those two words. He could almost see Jim's frown, eyebrows pulled together tightly. Damn. Better tone it down. Don't arouse suspicion, not an easy thing to do with Jim Kirk though.

"Yeah. Just tired. Long day today." He tried to sound exhausted, voice lower and softer, letting a bit more of the Georgian accent slip through.

"I hear ya. Wanna grab a drink?"

_No. No drinks. Not tonight. Not ever again._

"Jim, I'd rather not tonight. I have a bit of a headache already. I don't need to wake up to another one."

"Oh, come on. I wasn't planning on getting that drunk. But if it happens, you can easily cure the hangover. You're a doctor," Jim laughed, joking easily.

"Waste of my damn medicine, that's what it is," he growled back, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. He wanted to be left alone damn it!

"You sure you're okay?"

"Just peachy. Look, I don't mean to take it out on you. I just don't feel that great right now and I'd just like to go to sleep." It wasn't a total lie. He would be sleeping. It would just be for a very long time.

"You're sure you don't need to talk to Chapel or anyone about that headache?" Jim was trying to keep the worry out of his voice, rather poorly if you knew what to listen for, or if you'd memorized every rise and fall of Jim's voice like he had.

"All I need are eight hours of undisturbed rest. It'll be over by tomorrow." Yeah, it'll all be over. Every ounce of pain and guilt ever felt will be gone. He could tell that Jim was contemplating pushing some more; needling until he'd convinced Bones to come with him. To his surprise however, Jim let it drop.

"All right Bones. But we're doing breakfast in the morning. You owe me 'cause I hate drinking by myself."

"Fine kid, but I don't owe you anything. And don't be looking to me to clear up any hangover you get." '_cause I won't be there to help you _he thought grimly. That thought was a little sad. No more stabbing an unsuspecting Jim in the neck. That he would miss.

"Fine _Leonard_." He could hear the teasing in his voice. Payback for calling him "kid", though he didn't really mind so much. In the end, he was just Leonard, really. Inadequate. A failure. Whatever.

"Sweet dreams. Kirk out."

Leonard breathed a sigh of relief and sank against the wall dropping to the floor. A flood of conflicting emotions ran through him—guilt, sorrow, agitation, frustration, but these were quickly replaced by an emptiness resonating in a dull ache in his chest as he reminded himself that Jim didn't love him. Nothing in this life could keep him here anymore. He pressed his face into his hands briefly and pushed himself back up from the floor. There were still a few preparations to be made.

He took the nearest empty PADD and transferred a recently recorded vid-message to it. The subject line read _To Jim, I'm sorry_. He placed the PADD on his desk, next to which he positioned a small envelope addressed to Joanna. Inside it was a letter written on old fashioned paper for when she was older, to help her understand, if she could, his decision.

When this was done, he took the small pill container stashed in his desk. There were just enough pills to do the trick, but it was going to be painful. The container held a mixture of two different medications, both completely incompatible with human physiology. This particular combination would result in a painful death, the drugs slowly burning through each internal organ, one at a time. He would probably die screaming madly. Good thing the walls were soundproof.

However, the pills weren't enough for him. Alongside the pill container in his desk rested a beautifully crafted knife he had purchased on a small planet on the outer rim of the Alpha Quadrant. This would add the final touch to his carefully thought out plan. He wanted to feel the pain inside and out, the justice of suffering being served one final time. For all the pain he had undoubtedly inflicted on people in his life, he deserved to die in pain. It was his penance.

Slowly Leonard pulled off his blue med shirt, tossing it on the floor under his desk. Then he carefully rolled up the sleeves of the black undershirt he wore underneath. His heart was thumping furiously now, presumably trying to make up for all the beats it would lose with his death. He wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to calm his thoughts. _Goddamn_ _coward,_ he thought to himself. _You can't back out now. _

Before giving himself ample opportunity to change his mind, he emptied the contents of the little container into his hand and threw them into his mouth all at once. After swallowing all the bitter red and blue capsules he took a steadying breath and brought the knife up to his left wrist. Years of surgery under pressure ensured that there was no tremor or trepidation to the motion. And for once, he felt calm, finally at peace with the vast emptiness of space. It was as though after so many years of so much wrong, the universe had suddenly righted itself again. If there was such thing as destiny, this was surely his, to die alone in the middle of unclaimed territory in space.

The empty room around him swallowed his quietly whispered final words.

"Joanna, Jim, I love you both. Please forgive me."

Then he focused on the feeling of the cool blade on his warm skin and watched that flash of metal as he quickly pulled the sharp edge across.


	2. Definitely Wrong

_II. Definitely Wrong_

"Sweet dreams. Kirk out." Jim frowned as he turned off the comm unit in his quarters. Something wasn't right. The only reason he hadn't pushed harder to get Bones to come with him was because he was afraid the man would only retreat further. No one else had seemed to notice that there had been something off about Bones the past few weeks. In all outward appearances, he seemed normal. He scowled and complained and acted cranky as always, but there was still something different and Jim just couldn't seem to put his finger on what it was.

He stepped into the sonic shower, still pondering. Only two days ago he had been having a casual conversation with Bones over dinner about routine repairs that would be taking place when they reached Starbase 18 in a few weeks. There was nothing unusual about the topic of conversation. What was unusual was Bones' reaction. Normally he would have grumbled about having to spend their week of vacation stranded on a goddamn space station in the middle of nowhere. Normal, cheerful Bones moaning and groaning.

Instead, at the mention of it, he had paled over and became silent briefly. Only for a moment. Then he continued with said complaining, albeit, in a slightly forced manner. Jim didn't say anything at Bones' unusual reaction, and he hadn't brought it up since then. But something was definitely wrong.

Jim wrestled with the decision to go directly to Bones' quarters and make sure he was really okay. He claimed that all he needed was some rest, but something lurking in the back of Jim's mind told him otherwise, pressing him to look into the matter further. Normally he would dive first, which, in this case would mean heading directly to speak with Bones. But there was also a need for more information. He needed some answers first at to what happened that day that had Bones wound so tightly. If something happened, he would know what kind of steps to take after that. So, first, sickbay. Nurse Chapel or one of the other nurses could answer any of his questions about the patient load or anything else that could have Bones acting so strangely.

Jim dressed quickly in informal, off-duty attire, a long-sleeved grey shirt and comfortable black pants. No reason to impose his captainly authority unnecessarily. Plus, he always had his famous Jim Kirk charm that he could flash at anyone in a moment's notice should he need it, not that he used it much these days, aside from a casual flirt here and there.

Some would say that the reason behind it was that he was finally growing maturity. While that was true, Jim had his own reason, which stemmed from a certain growing attraction he had to one Leonard Horatio McCoy. Actually, it wasn't just growing, it was flourishing. Jim had loved Bones almost since the moment they stepped off the shuttle together in San Francisco and each day he seemed to love him a little more.

Of course, he hadn't acted on that attraction at all. At first he pretended it didn't exist. He bedded more women in his first year at the Academy than probably all the other male cadets combined. The thought that he was not just in love with another man, but a man who was quickly turning out to be his best friend embarrassed him a little. You didn't ruin a friendship like that, especially when you know that the man you're in love with is old-fashioned, somewhat conservative and definitely straight. The man had a child, for Christ's sakes!

Eventually, Jim realized that sleeping with anything that moved wouldn't change his feelings. By that time, however, he had a reputation with the ladies, so more often than not he didn't have to do any flirting to end up in the warm bed of some young hot thing. Still, it wasn't what he wanted, so every time he fucked a girl, he pictured Bones beneath him, breathing obscenities into the side of his neck, pulling him down closer until their bodies were pressed so tightly together that he couldn't breathe, but he didn't care, because it was Bones. _His_ Bones. What he wouldn't give to lay his head on Bones' chest, listen to that steady rhythm of his breathing and his heartbeat, feel the touch of strong arms wrapped around him securely. Jim groaned quietly. Thinking this way right now wasn't going to help Bones. To sickbay.

Nurse Chapel was giving a hypospray to an unconscious officer in a biobed when he entered. Glancing up at his entrance, a look of surprise spread across her face.

"Captain! Doctor McCoy isn't here. He left a while ago."

"Oh, I know."

"Are you alright? You're not hurt are you?" She started to move closer to him, medical scanner in hand.

"No. No, I'm okay," Jim laughed. "Just because I seem to spend a lot of time unconscious here doesn't mean that I'm here for medical attention."

"There's no seeming about it. You _do_ spend a lot of time unconscious here. I just want to make sure you're alright."

"I'm okay, right now, at least. You should've been able to tell because I walked in on my own two feet. Usually someone's dragging me in here across the floor while I'm passed out. Very undignified for a captain, I might add." It was Chapel's turn to laugh at that.

"Then, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, captain?"

"I just wanted to talk to you about Bones, I mean, Doctor McCoy." She nodded in understanding so he continued, "Did something happen today? He seemed a little out of it when I talked to him earlier. Said he had a long day."

Chapel looked puzzled for a moment, then spoke. "Actually sir, we had a light load. Nothing serious or complicated, just some routine checkups and a couple of minor wounds from a sparring incident."

"Did you notice anything unusual about his behavior?"

"Well, actually, sir, now that you mention it, he did seem pretty distracted. Normally if Doctor McCoy isn't involved in an emergency procedure or something like that, he's right on top of all his appointments. He likes to wait for his patients before they're scheduled to arrive so he can yell at them if they're late." Jim stifled a snort.

"I actually had to go and get him for two appointments today. Both times I found him in his office, staring at nothing."

Jim frowned. Usually when Bones was that distracted, something had happened that he couldn't put out of his mind. The last time Bones had heard that Jocelyn was getting remarried. Jim had found him on the floor of their dorm at the Academy, extremely drunk. It didn't happen too often, but every once in a while, usually for just one night, Bones would revert back to his old ways, on the verge of alcoholism. Over the years, Jim had successfully weaned Bones from the bottle. That isn't to say that they never drank. They drank often, in fact. But they were almost always careful enough to never cross the line into blackout drunk. At least, anymore. But that night Bones had passed out in Jim's arms and all Jim wanted to do was hold him tightly and kiss his brow so he would know that Jim cared about him. Nurse Chapel's voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"Is something wrong with Doctor McCoy?"

"I don't know. I think I'd better go make sure. Thanks for your help." He turned to leave then remembered something. "Oh, wait! Do you have something for a headache?"

"I thought you said you were fine," she teased.

"It's not for me. It's for Doctor McCoy. He said he had a headache."

"Of course, Captain." She rummaged through a cabinet for a minute then turned back to him.

"Here you go sir. I hope he feels better."

"I'm sure he'll be fine. Thanks again." He smiled at her genuinely and turned out of sickbay. As soon as he left, his smile disappeared. He needed to get to Bones before he drank himself into another stupor. Why hadn't he told Jim that there was something wrong? That's what friends are for, to be there for each other. Bones had been there for Jim more times than he could count. He wanted to do the same for him. But damn it, Bones was too private a man to go spilling his guts whenever something was amiss. Jim quickened his pace, but it still felt like his legs were full of lead, too heavy to move at his desired pace. Luckily, Bones' quarters were not far from sickbay and in a few short minutes he found himself outside Bones' door. The perks of being CMO.

He pushed the chime on the door, not really expecting Bones to answer if he was drunk. He did it more out of courtesy than anything. As expected, there was no answer. He pushed the button again. No answer. Maybe Bones wasn't here. He hadn't thought of that. Was it possible that when he said he wanted to go to bed, he really just didn't want to spend time with Jim? Well, there was an easy way to find out if he was in or not.

"Computer, locate Leonard McCoy."

"Doctor McCoy is located in his quarters," the computer replied helpfully.

Okay, so Bones was in his quarters. Thankfully, he knew Bones' code. They normally spent so much time in each other's quarters that there was no reason to hide them from each other. He typed the code in. The door didn't open, but beeped at him, informing him that the code was incorrect. Jim frowned. Maybe he typed it in wrong. He tried again. Still the door didn't open. A twinge of worry and panic began to spread across his chest. Why would Bones change his code, unless he wanted to keep people, specifically Jim, out of his room? Luckily Jim was the only genius-level repeat offender in the Midwest. It didn't take much to hack the system. After about a minute, the door gave in and finally opened. Jim entered the room, blanketed in complete darkness.

"Bones?" he called out. "Bones where are you?"

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he listened for a response. Finally he caught the sound of a soft whimper coming from the far side of the room. Heart thumping loudly in his chest, he followed the sound until his foot caught on something and he fell to the ground. It took only one terrifying second to realize that what he tripped over was Bones' leg.

"Shit," he swore loudly. He managed to twist his ankle when he fell. It was now throbbing painfully. The pain was quickly ignored as Jim discovered that his hand was laying in something warm and wet. If possible, his heart sped up even more, and his mouth went very dry. Another whimper came from the figure lying next to him. He tried not to think of what could be covering his hand and found his voice enough to call to the computer.

"Computer, lights to fifty percent."

The lights came up obligingly and what Jim saw frightened him more than just about anything he had ever experienced before in his life, more than seeing Vulcan and nearly all of its inhabitants destroyed, more than plummeting to the ground with a white knuckled grip around Sulu and no parachute.

The wetness he had discovered underneath his hand was a large, growing pool of blood. Not just any blood, he corrected. _Bones' _blood. About a foot away from Bones' head laid a discarded ornamental knife decorated with the same red wetness.

Bones gasped a little and blinked at the sudden light then closed his eyes again. His face was a pasty white, hair plastered across his sweaty brow. And Jesus, the blood was overwhelming. It was everywhere, pooling freshly from somewhere on Bones' left arm. Jim carefully turned over the arm, exposing two deep cuts made expertly across the underside of his wrist. Jim clapped a hand to his mouth. Terror was welling inside of him, threatening to suffocate him.

"Fuck, Bones, fuck!" were the words that came out of his mouth as he rushed to the comm unit on the wall. He frantically smashed in the button calling, "Kirk to sickbay. Emergency medical team needed in Doctor McCoy's quarters immediately! He's..."

Jim was interrupted by a loud yell of pain. Bones arched his back, mouth open, gasping frantically for air. His fingers were clawing frantically into the carpet. Then he was curled on his side, vomiting and clutching his stomach.

Nurse Chapel's voice came out of the comm unit. "Captain, are you there?"

"Just hurry!" he yelled and he immediately returned to Bones' side, hands on his trembling shoulders.

"Bones. Bones, can you hear me?"

At the sound of his voice, Bones' eyes, glazed over in pain, searched for the source of the voice calling his name. They finally found Jim's face, locking on his eyes.

"Bones just hold on." He didn't want to tear his eyes away from Bones', but he needed something to help stop the blood. He got up and ran, as best as his ankle would allow, to the small bathroom, grabbing a couple small towels quickly before returning. He tried to gingerly pull Bones' bleeding arm away from his body, but Bones howled in pain and tried to pull away so he stopped. A lump was growing in the back of his throat at the sight of his best friend in pain. Dying.

He swallowed past it as best as he could and whispered, pleading quietly, "Bones, please. I need to try to stop the bleeding." He was surprised when Bones answered him.

"Don't. Leave it." The weight that those three words carried was something Jim had never heard in Bones' voice before. It bore only a small semblance of the man he thought he knew. This pained him even more.

"I'm not going to leave it alone." He paused to swipe a hand across his eyes. "Damn it! Leonard Horatio McCoy, I'm not going to sit here and watch you die."

Once again he moved to pull away the injured wrist. He was met with no resistance this time, only a swallowed cry of pain. He quickly pressed the towel around the gashes and secured it as best as he could. The other towel was used to wipe Bones' face. Then Jim carefully pulled him into his lap as he sat back, the man's cheek pressed against his chest. He felt the short puffs of ragged breath through his shirt. It made his chest ache to think that the reason he was sitting so close to Bones was not that he finally confessed his love for the man, but that Bones was bleeding out in his arms.

Leaning down, Jim whispered in his ear, "Bones, I'm not leaving. I'll never leave you." He couldn't think about the fact that Bones' actions said that he didn't want Jim, didn't need Jim the way he needed Bones.

Suddenly Bones was wracked with another spasm of what was obviously excruciating pain. At that, Jim's arms tightened around his best friend, who writhed in agony, as he waited for it to pass. He stroked Bones' hair, brushing sweaty strands away from his forehead. He tried to keep a constant chant of words flowing into Bones' ear.

"I've got you. Shh, it's okay. You're going to be alright. Just hold on a little longer." Maintaining an outwardly calm appearance was difficult because inside he was screaming and crying in horror and pain of his own. For once, he envied Spock and his ability to push aside things like panic and terror. Finally he felt Bones relax in his arms, which helped him calm his own emotions a little bit.

"Jim," the hoarse whisper was muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

"Bones, I'm here," he replied.

"It hurts." Bones was quivering now, whether because of the pain or something else, Jim didn't know. He pulled him closer into his body; it was all he could do. Jim wasn't used to feeling so damn powerless. Once again he wanted to scream and punch something hard. Anything to get this feeling to go away. Because for the first time in a long time, he wanted to cry. He took a shaky breath then answered, keeping his voice as even as possible.

"I know it does. Just hold on a little longer. They'll be here soon."

"Not m'wrist, not all this." Jim considered Bones' mental state at that moment. It was possible that whatever Bones did to himself was making him delirious. Even so, he replied.

"What then?"

"She was leaving."

"Who was?"

Jim never got the answer to his question because Bones chose that moment to finally pass out again. He watched as Bones' tried to continue speaking, lips moving soundlessly and wordlessly until his eyelids fluttered closed and his head slumped forward into the crook of Jim's arm. He tried to jar Bones back awake.

"Bones, wake up. Bones! You've got to wake up now. Stay with me." Jim continued to shake him with no result. He could still feel the sporadic rise and fall of Bones' chest, so he knew the man was still alive. However, he also knew that falling unconscious was also a serious sign that Bones was in danger.

"Bones, you can't do this to me you fucking bastard! Not now. I haven't told you yet. I haven't told you that I—"

At that moment the door to Bones' quarters finally opened and Jim was unable to complete his thought. He couldn't decide whether he had never been happier to see Nurse Chapel and the medical team in his entire life, or whether he wished they could have waited two more seconds to come charging into the quarters. Nurse Chapel took in the scene in a shocked moment of comprehension, eyes skirting to the abandoned bloody knife then back to the unconscious figure in the captain's arms and immediately began shouting orders to the other members of her team. Jim didn't speak. He didn't think he could bring himself to admit out loud that Bones had tried to kill himself. It would make it all too real for him. Above him whirred the sound of a medical scanner. He looked up to see a middle-aged man frowning at the results.

"His body temperature is elevated and his pressure's down. Hold on a second. I'm getting some unusual readings." He frowned harder, shaking his head. "This makes no sense."

"What? What is it?" Jim asked weakly before anyone else had a chance.

"I'm not sure how it's possible, but his internal organs are being destroyed from the inside. It's almost like something's trying to disintegrate them. We need to get him to sickbay, now!"

Almost instantaneously, the four members of the medical team were carefully lifting the unconscious doctor from Jim's lap onto the gurney he hadn't noticed they had carried with them. How did they know to bring it? Maybe it was standard procedure with medical emergencies. Jim moved to Bones' side to grasp the hand of his uninjured right arm in his own, still slippery with Bones' blood. The doctor looked like he wanted to say something to Jim, but Chapel shot him a look that said _don't you dare or you'll have me to answer to_. It pained him to realize that he recognized that look. She had gotten it from Bones.

Then they were racing down the corridor. Jim focused on the limp hand in his own, still ignoring the way his ankle protested painfully with every jarring step. When they reached sickbay Jim was finally made to detach himself from Bones' hand. Still, he stood off to the side, watching anxiously as the doctor scanned and prodded Bones, still frowning at whatever he was looking at. Jim heard him speaking and tried to focus on the words, not on the pale figure unconscious before them.

"There has been extensive damage done to most of his internal organs. Shit! I'm reading strong traces of Kliptophane and Tridocilin in his blood. I knew there was something about those readings."

Jim couldn't stay silent. "Kliptophane and what?" He'd never heard of them before.

The doctor whirled around, apparently surprised that he was still there. "Kliptophane and Tridocilin. Kliptophane is an antiviral only to be used on the Rhadans because their physiology is completely unique in the galaxy, as far as we know. Tridocilin is for the treatment of the equivalent of hemophilia in copper-based blood. The combination of the two would be deadly. Together it looks they spread throughout the blood stream and attack all the internal organs."

"How bad is it?" he asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

"Pretty bad, sir. We need to prep him for surgery now to repair his organs. I think I can repair most of the damage done, but he may need a couple of transplants. Luckily there doesn't seem to be any damage to his heart, not yet anyway. I've got to fix it before his heart gives out from the stress." Then he turned back to Chapel standing at his side.

"Nurse, administer a standard dose of Floriphate to flush the drugs out of his system."

"Yes doctor."

"Captain, you should go back to your quarters. It's going to be a long surgery and there's really nothing you can do here." The man obviously didn't know James T Kirk too well.

"I want to stay with him."

"I understand sir, but there's simply no reason for you to stay. With the surgery, he won't be awake anytime soon." Jim felt his fury, which, until that moment was carefully controlled, finally boil over. He advanced on the man and finally let out the rage. He knew as the captain it was his duty to remain professional, but at this point, to hell with duty and acting captainly.

"Damn it, my best friend just tried to kill himself, and you're telling me that I have no fucking reason to stay here and wait to make sure he's going to be okay. If that was me, Bones wouldn't leave my side for a second. Not for one fucking thing. Let me ask you, when you became a doctor, did you lose every ounce of compassion you had in that heart of yours? I know you think you're superior, but what kind of self centered, heartless bastard—"

He felt a hand on his shoulder, which stopped his tirade. When he turned, he was staring into Chapel's blue eyes, his own pain mirrored in her expression.

"Captain," she began softly. "Jim, I know this is hard. But I promise you that if there's any change at all, I'll call you immediately. In the meantime, you should go back to your quarters and change your clothes at the very least, try to calm yourself. I can guarantee that the surgery Doctor Mehin is talking about is going to take at least six hours, probably more. Maybe you should try to get some rest at least for a little while. You won't be any use to Doctor McCoy if you're exhausted."

Although the last thing he wanted to try to do was sleep, he knew Chapel was right. When, _not if_, Bones woke up, he would need support from Jim. It was going to be a long road to recovery, not just psychologically, but, by the sound of it, physically as well.

"If he needs a transplant, I'll donate. I know we're a match." Nurse Chapel nodded.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours. Call Me if there's any change."

He gave one final furious glare at Doctor Mehin that said '_if you do anything to fuck with me again, I'll demote your ass so fast you won't know what happened'_ and limped out. Nurse Chapel couldn't help but wonder how he had managed to hurt himself in the short amount of time since they had talked, but she let him leave. It could wait.


	3. Boys Don't Cry

_III. Boys Don't Cry_

As Jim left sickbay for the second time that evening, a heaviness began to settle in his chest. He almost lost Bones, hell, he could _still_ lose him. They had both been injured before, nursed grave wounds from dangerous away missions, but this was different. Before, Jim had someone else to blame, someone who he could feel angry at for hurting Bones. Now, he couldn't help but feel like there was no one to blame but himself. He'd been so self centered that he'd missed important telling signs that Bones was—troubled. And people called him a fucking genius. With his own kind of first hand experience dealing with suicidal thoughts and, well, attempts, if he was forced to admit it, Jim should've picked up on something, anything.

He thought back to the past few weeks, scouring his memories for anything that could be taken as an outward sign of Bones' imminent danger. The problem was that Bones was just as good at hiding things as Jim was. But usually Bones knew when something was wrong with Jim, and Jim knew when something was wrong with Bones. Damn it! He couldn't think of anything that would have caused Bones to take such drastic measures and nothing to suggest that he was even considering hurting himself. Jim felt the feeble grasp he still had over his emotions fraying. He needed to get to his quarters before it failed altogether.

Though he passed only a few crewmembers on the way back to his quarters, it felt like thousands of eyes were pressing into the back of his head, scrutinizing, searching for something on his person. The staring caused a stirring in his stomach, despite his usual lack of self consciousness and embarrassment. He turned his eyes to the ground, avoiding knowing looks and walked faster. Even so, guilt washed over him. He sped to as fast a jog as his ankle would allow, only to round a corner and collide into something painfully solid which left him unceremoniously sprawled back on the ground.

From his position on his back, Jim tilted his head upward and his blue eyes met the brown ones of the man who'd knocked him down. To anyone else, the voice coming from the figure would have sounded disinterested and nonchalant, but Jim's carefully trained ear picked up on the slight note of concern and surprise in one word.

"Captain."

"Hello, Spock. Are you going to help me up?" Spock immediately offered his right hand out to the captain, but Jim shook his head and grimaced as he pushed himself up from the ground.

Spock frowned. "Captain, you are covered in an extensive amount of blood; although I see no wound to suggest that it is your own. Are you unwell?"

Jim looked down and finally realized why his crew had been staring at him. Spock's assessment was, of course, correct. Somehow he had managed to forget that he was covered in Bones' drying blood. Not just his hands, but down the front of his shirt, his pants; he could even feel it crusted on his face and hairline when he focused on it. They probably just thought he'd finally reverted back to his old ways and got into a stupid fight with someone on board. _Dumb bastards._

"I'm not sure how to answer that," he said truthfully. Physically, he was okay besides the ankle, but the image of his best friend dying in his arms was calling back feelings that he would have preferred never to experience again. He tried to push the emotions away and regain composure.

Taking in the look on Jim's face, Spock seemed to understand how he felt.

"If the blood covering your person is not your own, may I enquire as to whom it does belong?"

Jim felt his throat tighten at the question. His fists automatically curled into tight balls and his nails dug deeply into his palms. He didn't think he could answer and he didn't want to anyway, but Spock looked genuinely concerned, for a Vulcan. So he managed to choke out one word.

"Bones." And then he realized he was panicking, gasping hard and not getting enough air. His head was swimming, vision coming in and out of focus and his stomach churned. The picture of Bones' white face, stone still and lifeless flashed through his mind. He shook his head, trying to shove away the image, but it was only replaced by a different one, of Jim cradling Bones in his arms, Bones' limbs splayed in odd angles as the sound of Jim's scream fills his ears. It's a sound that Jim has never heard himself make, a painful cry, full of heartbreak and regret. Jim knew it was only a vision, but he couldn't stop the feeling of panic bubbling in his chest.

Spock's hands reached out to help him to sit back on the ground as he collapsed against the wall. They left Jim's shoulders almost immediately like he'd been burned, eyebrows all but disappeared under his hair and Jim knew that Spock had just been a witness to Jim's own thoughts and visions, memories and emotions all in one. Fucking Vulcan touch-telepathy.

Spock slid, boneless, down the wall next to him, watching Jim's head disappear between his legs as he tried to calm down. Slowly, his breathing returned to a more normal but shaky rhythm and, after what seemed like hours, he raised his head back up to meet Spock's gaze, which was clouded with obvious confusion.

"I do not understand," he whispered, "To attempt to terminate one's own existence is illogical."

"Who ever said the human race was logical?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jim finally reached his quarters and released the shaky breath he was holding. He was glad Spock had agreed that, for Bones' sake, the ship's rumor mill didn't need to be informed about the incident. He had assured Jim that he and Uhura would be certain to spread it along that Bones had simply been injured in a very serious accident. It was amazing how agreeable and almost, well, human Spock could be at times. He hadn't even brought up logic when Jim had proclaimed that he couldn't lose Bones, that he was all the family Jim had left.

He had questioned whether or not Jim still had a mother currently still living in good health in Iowa, to which Jim replied, "Yes, biologically we're related. But she stopped being my mother a long time ago."

And Spock somehow knew that that was all there was to be said of that topic.

Now in the privacy of his own quarters, Jim was anxious to remove any reminder of his best friend bleeding in his arms. He tore off his clothes in as few quick movements as he could manage, stuffing them quickly down the laundry chute.

He stepped into the sonic shower again, and although the blood was removed from his skin almost immediately, he was convinced that he could still feel it lingering there. He could still see it on his hands, smell it burrowed too deeply in his skin, and taste the persistent metallic pungency on his lips. So he scrubbed hard at his skin with a rag until his hands and face were raw and painful, but it still wasn't enough. For years he had wanted to feel Bones on him, smell his scent clinging on to his own body. Now, he would have given anything to remove what he was convinced would never come off of his skin.

At that thought he finally broke down completely and cried, sinking to the floor of the small cubicle with his arms wrapped around his knees. It was a relief to finally let all of it out. Sure, he basically had a panic attack in front of Spock, but this was different. He hadn't cried in twenty years.

Jim wasn't just crying for Bones, though that was what had admittedly brought it on. He cried for more than twenty years of shit that had passed itself off as his life. And being wracked with sobs painful enough to make up for twenty years of dry eyes was somehow strangely a relief. He cried for his dead father, for never knowing George Kirk outside his almost reverent stories of his heroic actions. He cried for every time Winona left him for some far off planet for weeks at a time, for leaving him in the less than gentle care of Frank. Frank, who, under the influence of his piss-poor liquor transformed into a fearsome creature who could hardly be considered a man.

Something flashed behind his closed eyes and he was instantly transported to a painful memory he didn't want to relive.

Frank's angry face, flushed with arousal and the effects of booze pressed itself close to his own. Jim stepped backwards, only to find his steps matched somewhat unsteadily by the drunk man in front of him. When he tried to inch away, Frank grabbed him by the neck and slammed him hard into the wall. All the air was forced from his lungs as Frank smashed his body into Jim's, slurring drunkenly.

"Where do you think you're going, you little fuck?" He grabbed Jim's neck again and threw him to the floor. Pain seared through the wrist he landed on, accompanied by a sickening snap of bone. Jim felt his eyes begin to water and prayed that he could stop the tears threatening to fall before Frank saw.

"You're a worthless fuck-up. You can't do anything right," the voice above him bellowed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." Jim wailed cradling his wrist against his chest.

"Like hell you didn't. Doesn't matter now. 'Cause you're going to pay for what you did. Teach you to break my things."

"It was an accident." And it had been. Jim was following his stepfather's request (command was more the appropriate word, but whatever) for another beer. He poured the frothy drink into a tall mug and was carrying it to Frank. His attention was so focused on not spilling any of the mug's contents that he forgot about the raised loose floorboard directly in his path. His foot caught on the loose edge and that was all it took for him to lose his balance and come crashing to the floor. Every precious drop of beer splashed to the floor and the glass shattered around him.

It wasn't entirely Jim's fault. If he had been less concerned with not making Frank angry, he might not have tripped. But then, he was rarely ever _not_ concerned with that, and even if he hadn't tripped, Frank would have found another excuse to punish little Jimmy.

"Bullshit. It doesn't matter anyway. I'd still beat the shit out of you." With that he reared his booted foot back and slammed it as hard as he could into the left side of Jim's ribcage, colliding also with his obviously-broken wrist.

"You're worth nothing. Not to me, not to your mother. You know that's why she's not here right? She can't stand to look at that fucked up face of yours. You may look like your father, but you'll never be as great as he was. She wishes you had died instead of him. That's why she won't look at your face. You're not George Kirk." Frank reared back again and again, booted foot smashing harder and harder into Jim's ribs and stomach.

Finally Jim began to cry, tears falling silently down his cheeks from the pain of crushed bones and hearing all the things he was always afraid of someone saying. It was the wrong thing to do, letting the salty droplets fall in an effort to comfort himself. Frank saw them and erupted.

"Boys don't cry Jimmy. You're not a man at all, are you? Not even a boy, bawling like a little girl. You know what happens to boys who cry?" He began fumbling with his belt until he managed to remove it from around his waist.

Jim braced himself for the stinging crack of the leather on his back. It didn't come. Instead, he was wrenched from the ground, dragged to the bedroom by the collar of his shirt and thrown onto the bed. In mere seconds, Frank had the belt around both of his wrists and attached to the bed frame, with Jim almost screaming at the fiery pain shooting through his protesting wrist and the ache in his chest each time he tried to breathe too deeply. If Jim had been thinking a little clearer, he would have wondered if Frank was really as drunk as he had originally assumed.

"They get fucked like girls Jimmy." He realized Frank was talking about boys who cry, and even in a child genius' mind like his, this almost made sense.

In one quick movement, his pants were pulled down around his ankles, then removed completely. He managed to bring his eyes up to notice that Frank's own pants and underwear were removed as well, swollen purple cock bobbing expectantly. And Jim couldn't help but wonder what he was going to do with it. Surely he wasn't going to shove that. . . And then without any preparation at all, he felt the entire length slammed into the exact place he feared. Jim cried out at the overstretched feeling of something much too large filling him. Each thrust caused such a jarring pain in his entire body, that he was afraid that he might puke all over himself. It was becoming harder and harder to concentrate on much of anything, just the overwhelming feeling of wanting this to end. _Please, please, God let it be over soon_.

Frank's voice pierced through his hazy mind, shouting over and over again, "Jimmy, oh fuck. I'm gonna come in that tight little hole of yours while I fuck you raw like the whore you are."

Jim tried to block out everything and focus on his prayers, if that's what they were. He blocked the pain, the moaning and panting, the sensation of having something that didn't belong forced into his ass, the feeling of worthlessness and helplessness slowly creeping over him.

Time meant nothing to him. The minutes and seconds all blurred together, just a giant tangle of foggy sensations. He could have been there for hours or even days and he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. All he knew was that when he finally felt a hot sickening splash of fluid inside of him and, with a sharp pain, realized Frank had removed himself from Jim he praised God for one of the first times in his life. And, praise that mysterious being again (if he indeed existed), Frank went out after that though he did leave Jim still tied to the bed for the next three and a half hours. But the moment his stepfather stepped out of the house, Jim let the salty tears stream down his cheeks. His nose ran and he still felt like he wasn't getting enough air, but eventually, he calmed down enough to fall asleep until Frank returned.

That was the last time Jim cried. He was afraid of what Frank would do if he did. It didn't help. Frank always found a reason to come back for more. Sometimes Jim thought about killing himself, about taking away Frank's punching bag and sex toy all at once while leaving a note to Winona explaining everything.

He'd swallowed an entire bottle of pills he found in the bathroom once, but Frank found out pretty quickly that they were gone and forced the kid to puke them all up in the toilet, flushing the note down with them. Then Jim had received one of the worst whippings in his life. He'd slept on his stomach for a whole week before he could stand putting weight on his back again.

Then of course, there was the incident with Frank's antique car. The feeling of the wind in his hair as he escaped and made his way to the final destination, an old quarry, was overwhelmingly good. He could do this. It would be easy to just go over the cliff with the car. Then he realized he'd be damned if he was going to die in something that belonged to Frank. He just managed to throw himself from the car before he went over the edge in it, scrambling to find a grip on the loose dirt and rock. He eventually found a hold, with everything but his fingers dangling over the cliff wall. Luckily he was able to pull himself back up, with a great sense of pleasure filling him at the thought that he'd just destroyed something that Frank found near and dear. Of course, Frank wasn't amused when the cop finally escorted him home. He smashed Jim's ribs in with a baseball bat then tied him to the bed.

Frank stuffed his hard throbbing cock violently down Jim's throat. He tried to breath, but between the crushed lungs and the aching dick invading his throat, he couldn't seem to get enough air. And he was forced to sit there, panicking, unable to fight back at all. A scream sat ready in the back of his throat, if only he could get this throbbing flesh out of his mouth, if only he could make his lungs work for just one tiny second. His vision was going fuzzy on the edges, blackness starting to creep in slowly but surely. After that he remembered nothing. He supposed that Frank must have fucked his face until Jim passed out and then realized he wasn't breathing.

He woke in the hospital and Frank, thankfully, was nowhere in sight. Both his lungs had collapsed thanks to Frank's trusty bat. Of course, he didn't dare mention that to any of the doctors or nurses. They accepted his answer about a bad brawl at school without blinking an eye. He'd been there before and most of the doctors knew him pretty well. Why shouldn't they believe him?

There were more attempts, but most were such utter disasters that Jim finally stopped trying. He began to fight back instead, but Frank only found this more arousing. That is, until Jim finally managed to beat him unconscious a few short months after his sixteenth birthday. It felt pretty good to leave Frank passed out and beaten in on the floor of the bedroom for once. He took advantage of the opportunity. That was the day he left home for good, never stopping to look back from where he came. He saw no point. There was nothing left for him there. And he hadn't talked to Winona or Frank since then.

Jim finally managed to wrench himself out of the horrific nightmares of memory, and leaned his head against the wall of the shower, taking giant gulping breaths of air. When he finally managed to stop shaking, he moved unsteadily from the bathroom and dressed again, this time for bed. He thought of the clothes he'd just put into the laundry. Even if they managed to get all the stains out of them, he doubted that he'd ever want to put them on again.

Jim crawled into bed. Though exhausted from all the emotional stress he'd experienced the past few hours, his body wouldn't let him rest. And a part of him was afraid of what kind of terrible visions would dance before his eyes once he managed to close them. He tossed and turned for a few minutes and was grateful when the comm unit chimed and the same nonchalant voice from earlier spoke.

"Spock to Captain Kirk." He practically ran to the unit on the wall and pushed the button.

"Kirk here. What is it, Spock?" he called walking away to sit down.

"I have found something that may provide an answer to your question regarding the reasoning behind Doctor McCoy's actions earlier this evening."

"You did? What is it?" It felt wrong to be eager like this, but if it would help Jim get his Bones back, he was anxious to learn what it was.

"I do not know if, in your present condition, you should—"

"Damn it Spock! If you don't tell me, I'll find out myself." There was a short pause in which Spock, no doubt was considering his options. He obviously agreed with Jim's assessment, because he continued.

"Doctor McCoy left a recorded message addressed to you, as well as a letter written on paper addressed to someone named 'Joanna'. Sir, I find the use of such archaic means of communication illogical."

Jim ignored Spock's "illogical sensors". "You're in Bones' quarters?"

"Correct. I found it necessary to find an explanation for Doctor McCoy's irrational behavior. Although I doubt there is any logic founding the decision he made, the message may provide the answers we seek."

"All right. Meet me in my quarters with the message and the letter."

"Yes Captain."

"And call me Jim. Kirk out." Jim knew that Spock could have simply transferred the message to his own quarters, but he doubted that he would care to be alone when he viewed it. What if _he _was the reason? What if _he'd_ driven Bones to the edge of his sanity? Spock was becoming a closer friend to Jim, and a friend was what he would need right now, even if it was one who didn't always understand human emotions.

The next few minutes were spent in silence until the door chimed and he called for the person to enter. He already knew it was Spock, wasn't surprised at the Vulcan surveying him carefully.

"I'm fine Spock. Well, I'm not, but it'll be okay." Spock looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. So, he handed Jim the PADD and letter then turned to leave.

"Spock," Jim called. "Stay. Please. I don't want to watch this alone."

Spock seemed somewhat surprised at the request, but only hesitated for a second before responding. "All right, Jim. I will stay."

So, he pulled up a chair next to the one Jim sat in at his desk. Jim turned the viewscreen towards both of them and tapped a few commands onto the PADD until the video was displayed on it. He took a deep breath and hit the play button.

Bones' face appeared on the screen. He looked tired, more tired even than when they had first met on the shuttle to San Francisco, only a few days after Bones' divorce had been finalized. He had a look in his eyes that Jim now recognized as the same one on his face when he told Jim not to touch him earlier. There was no light in his eyes, just a cold emptiness that made Jim's heart ache. And Bones hadn't even said anything yet.

"Jim, if you're watching this right now, I guess that means that I did what I set out to." Bones' hand reached up to rub the back of his neck. Jim recognized it the habit he'd seen Bones do at least a thousand times before. He was nervous.

"I don't know if I can make you understand why I had to do it." Jim doubted that. In fact, he knew that out of every person on board the Enterprise, he was probably the one person who would understand completely. It pained him to think Bones didn't expect him to sympathize with his situation. Of course, Jim hadn't been very open about his past and family, something he would have to remedy, as painful as that would be, if he wanted Bones to know he would be there for him.

"Sometimes I don't know myself. I guess I've always just felt sort of alone—" Jim wanted to yell that he wasn't alone, but the recording continued, so he listened.

"—and a little bit of a failure, especially after my father died. The marriage all went to hell after that. Jocelyn couldn't take the man I'd become. So, we ended up getting divorced. You already know that though. And you know that Jocelyn only let me see Joanna once or twice a year. I'll always feel bad about missing her life. I've never really been a good father to her." Pain flickered briefly in Bones' eyes, then his expression changed as he suddenly remembered something.

"Oh, could you keep that letter for her until she's older, or at least old enough to understand? She's just a little girl now. You probably won't have the opportunity to get it to her for a while, but just do it for me, okay?" He paused to sigh and rub his neck again.

"Anyway, that's not all. I, I need to tell you something." Bones looked down for the first time in the recording. It was like he was refusing to make eye contact with Jim, even though he wasn't in the room, which Jim took as a very bad sign.

"No matter what my actions have said, I need you to know that I, that, well, I love you kid. I know you don't love me and that there couldn't have been anything more than friendship between us, but I thought you should know." Bones finally lifted his gaze back up to the camera. His eyes were wet and his jaw tense. He looked the way Jim felt at that moment, like he was so full of conflicting emotions that the world might just explode from the sheer force of them. Bones _loves_ him. _Him_. James T. Fucking Kirk!

"It probably seems like I don't show it, but every time I bitch and moan at you it's because I care." Bones' breathing hitched and silent tears fell down his cheeks. He didn't seem to notice them as he continued.

"I'm sorry Jim. I really am. I just, I don't know. I guess there's just not a damn thing keeping me here anymore. I hope you can find someone who loves you as much as I do. Try not to get into too much trouble without me." Then he noticed the wetness on his face and blinked rapidly, swiping the moisture away with his fingers as he moved towards the camera.

"Goodbye Jim." And then the feed went black.

Jim's first instinct was to cry again. _Damn these newly rediscovered emotions._ The revelation that Bones loved him sent tiny impassioned sparks down his spine, but the guilt from before was still devouring him. Jim Kirk was known for leaping before looking, but in the end, he didn't make the one blind leap that mattered the most and now he was paying for it.

He knew what Bones was feeling, the onslaught of helplessness that makes it seem impossible to go on living. And sometimes, it just feels like everything is darkening before your very eyes, that every ounce of strength you have left is slowly leaking from your body. Bones' instinct was to go towards that darkness, thinking that once he was there, he would find solitude. Jim knew reality though, that once you get there, the darkness is so thick and heavy that the long tendrils ensnare you and you end up suffocating.

Jim had escaped only barely, and the thought that Bones was searching through that dark fog alone was enough to make his breath hitch in his chest and a large lump swell in his throat. The only thing that kept him from succumbing to his emotions again was the light bulb that clicked on in his head as comprehension washed over him.

"Jim." Jim turned his eyes back to Spock, who he'd forgotten was sitting next to him. Spock, who apparently could read the expression of guilt riding all over his face, could see that it permeated him down to the very core.

"Jim, you must not blame yourself. It appears that Doctor McCoy has been suffering from what can be classified as 'depression' for many years."

"I know," he replied. "I _know_ it's not my fault directly, but I still should have noticed something was wrong." His voice quieted. "I didn't know he felt that way."

"Do you reciprocate his feelings?"

"Do I love him back? Of course I do! He's all I have left." Spock didn't ask if Jim loved Bones the same way he seemed to love Jim. He was glad for it. Then he remembered the light bulb and turned back to it. "It doesn't matter now. I think I understand."

Spock just looked back at him and waited for him to continue.

"She was leaving." He repeated Bones' earlier words, forgetting that Spock probably wouldn't know what he was talking about.

The look on Spock's face told Jim he was right. His face betrayed both confusion and concern that perhaps his captain too was going a little insane, both in that underemphasized Vulcan way that too few people could recognize. "I'm afraid I do not understand."

"It's something Bones said to me before the medical team arrived. I thought he was a little delirious, but it makes sense to me now. His words were 'She was leaving'. I tried to ask him who he was talking about, but he passed out. Now I think I know who he was talking about." He paused to take in the Vulcan's expression, which was now one of curiosity and the still-present hint of concern. Jim didn't know if the concern was for him, for Bones, or for himself, having to be in the presence of a man possibly insane.

"There's only one person left who could leave him."

"You are incorrect. There are at least two people whom the doctor would be concerned about leaving him, although I do not know the person you are talking about."

"I was talking about Joanna, his daughter. Who were you talking about?"

"I was referring to the close bond that you and Doctor McCoy share. I believe he would also be greatly affected were something to happen to you." This statement would have worried Jim greatly if Bones hadn't said "_She_ was leaving".

"I guess he probably would," he conceded. "Anyway, I need to be sure I'm right. Do you think it would be wrong to search through Bones' messages?"

To his surprise, Spock answered, "I would say that we have already effectively violated the doctor's privacy, which can be considered immoral. However, I believe that under the current circumstances we may be forgiven, and if your motive would be to discover the root of Doctor McCoy's problem, you would be in your right to search through his messages."

Interesting. Jim was fascinated by this Spock who was being slightly devious. He made a mental note to keep a closer eye on his First Officer then turned to his viewscreen and commanded, "Computer, display all messages sent to Leonard McCoy in the past three weeks. Voice authorization code delta, beta, victor, seven, nine."

The messages appeared obligingly on the viewscreen. Jim scanned through them and quickly found what he was looking for: a written message received two weeks before from Jocelyn Hirschfield, ex-wife of Leonard McCoy. He selected the message and began reading, feeling Spock standing behind him, staring at the viewscreen over his shoulder.

_Dear Leonard,_

_I know this is really sudden, but Joanna and I are leaving Earth. Paul has been offered a posting as a researcher in a new colony on the outer region. We discussed it and he accepted the position. The reason I'm letting you know is that the planet is not in the Federation and if all goes well, we won't be returning. If you want to say goodbye to Joanna, we'll be at Starbase 18 in three weeks catching a shuttle from there. It will be your last opportunity to see her. I don't want you talking to her or seeing her after that. I realize that it sounds harsh, but it'll be easier for Joanna to sever all connections with you than hoping that someday you'll come to see her. Let me know if you want to say goodbye._

_Yours,_

_Jocelyn_

When Jim finished reading, he exploded. "That bitch!"

"Indeed."

"I can't believe she would do that to him. She's taking away one of the few things he has left. No wonder he went fucking nutso. That was probably the only thing keeping him going, and just barely. He was already afraid Joanna wouldn't remember him."

"Why would the doctor's ex-wife wish to separate Doctor McCoy and his daughter?" Spock asked calmly despite Jim's ranting.

Jim breathed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I don't know. I know that Bones went a little crazy after his dad died. He mentioned that they were really close, especially because his mom died when he was just a kid. It must have hit him really hard, knowing that he had no family left.

"In the end, Jocelyn probably just doesn't want that much crazy around her daughter. Doesn't matter that Bones is a fucking good father, even if neither of them think so." What kind of justice was that? Taking Joanna to God-knows-which planet in some damn far off corner of the galaxy.

"Would I be correct in assuming that Paul is the girl's stepfather?" Spock asked after a few seconds.

"Yeah. The guy's a real asshole too. Cockiest son of a bitch I've ever met." Spock raised an eyebrow at him accusingly.

"Okay, yeah, I'm cocky too, but I _know_ I'm being cocky. And mostly I do it to annoy people, if I'm being honest. I don't _always_ think I'm great." Spock looked almost like he was trying not to laugh, which, for a Vulcan meant that the corner of his mouth twitched briefly.

"Don't look so amused Spock. What are we going to do about all of this?"

"Capt—Jim. I have an idea. But it does require me to place a conference call with Mrs. Hirschfield. If you will permit me to talk with her, I believe we can come to some understanding."

Jim grinned at the image of Spock calmly fuming at McCoy's ex-wife, but he was curious to see what Spock's plan was. "Permission granted. Do I get to be present when you place said call?"

Spock's eyebrow twitched unconsciously. "Under the circumstances, I believe it would be better if this conversation took place without your supervision. I'm afraid at the moment you are still too emotionally compromised to be present."

"Aw, come on Spock. I just want to tell her what a bitch she is," Jim whined, though he knew that this was a battle Spock would definitely be winning.

The eyebrow twitched harder this time. "Do not worry. I shall endeavor to make it clear to the woman that her behavior is both illogical and reprehensible, although I do not find your use of colorful metaphors necessary to express my point effectively."

Jim frowned but gave in. "All right, but I expect a full report afterwards. And don't leave anything out."

"I believe that is the definition of a full report." Spock stood to leave but stopped and turned back at the sound of Jim's voice.

"Spock, can I ask for one more favor?"

The eyebrow rose again. "That depends on the nature of the favor."

"Could you keep all of this a secret? Not just what McCoy did, but all of this." He motioned around him. "I don't really want people to know anything. I'm afraid it'll only make McCoy retreat further and that's the last thing we need."

He looked down and said quietly, "I'm going to talk to him." They both knew what he meant, that he would tell Bones how he felt, draw every pent-up feeling out of the pit of the dark space he hid them in and lay it all out on the table. Of course, it wouldn't be that simple, which is why it had to be kept secret.

"I am your friend. Of course I will not mention this to anyone." Jim relaxed. He knew that once he had Spock's word, the man would follow through with whatever was asked of him. Spock may not be human, but he was a good friend.

"Thanks. For everything," Jim replied, smiling as warmly as he could.

Spock nodded briefly, turned and walked out the door, leaving Jim to ponder just how to go about professing his love to an emotionally troubled man.


	4. Not Alone

_Note: Sorry this took so damn long to post. I know it should've come a while ago. I kind of freaked out or something. I would compare it to being on stage and making the mistake of looking directly into the faces of the audience members during the middle of the 2__nd__ Act of a play. And of course, you're finally scared shitless. You freeze, forgetting all your lines until someone nudges you or whispers the words into your ear. That's kind of what it felt like. That moment of "What the fuck am I doing?" Sorry about that. I think I'm good now that I've had my moment of stage fright. And just so you know, this chapter has been rewritten about a thousand times because the damn characters wouldn't do what I wanted. Sorry if it shows. _

_IV. Not Alone_

Leonard found himself surrounded by a thick dark fog. Distorted shadows reached for him, snaking long fingers towards his shaking form, ready to lead him deeper into the darkness while something on the other side made a feeble attempt at pulling him back to consciousness. The fear Leonard felt was lightly overshadowed by frustration as he realized after endless hours? Days? There really was no way to classify the time, but after endless whatevers of neither side prevailing over the other, he became irritated. But there was always that fear lurking behind it all because any moment now one side would win and he would have to leave.

There was no telling how long Leonard stayed there, hanging in that godforsaken limbo, waiting for something to happen. Eventually the shadows pulled their long fingers back into the darkness and left while the other side grew stronger. As he slowly felt the blackness dissipate around him, he thought he could almost hear Jim's voice, but the blackness was still too thick to comprehend, other than a few thoughts here and there. _Damn_ _it. You've been so… leaving…don't need…why?_ Just a few disjointed and unconnected words that had little meaning by themselves.

Eventually, after ages of waiting not-so patiently and struggling fruitlessly to speed up the process, Leonard finally managed to pull himself mostly back into consciousness. He was instantly aware of the complete and utter quiet filling the space around him. It gave him pause. He was afraid to open his eyes. For one brief moment, the glimmering hope that he was dead lit in his mind. Then he inhaled and there was a familiar scent in the air, the sterility of antiseptic. It invaded his nostrils and unless the afterlife smelled like a hospital, he knew that he was still very much alive. In an instant, memory came crashing back down on him.

He remembered that the doctor in him panicked a little at first and tried to staunch the blood flowing freely from his wrist with his fingers. That is, until, a few short minutes later, when the pills kicked in, and boy, what a sensation that was.

At the fevered blinding pain that started in his lower abdomen he finally dropped his wrist and gave in to the spasms that rolled through him in waves. The agony was extraordinary. It was like every star in the galaxy had exploded inside him, an overwhelming heated pain. Then it would lesson for a short time, receding to a dull ache covering his body and he would shudder and gasp and try to recover before the next. Then a new wave would hit, and every part of him that felt like it was on fire before blazed anew in pain more excruciating than before. The wildfire spread, engulfing more and more of his body with each passing wave.

And then there was Jim. He knew that's who it was when the door chimed and that the stupid son of a bitch would be overriding his changed code or hacking the system momentarily. It didn't matter much though. He was lying there, drowning in his own blood, wondering why the hell the goddamn pain shooting through his body hadn't torn him apart yet. It was hard to focus on anything else, so he missed Jim entering.

The next thing he knew, the lights, which seemed to have a personal vendetta against Leonard's eyes and pounding head, were turned on way too bright. He snapped them shut against the offending glare and swallowed hard against the nausea lingering in the back of his throat. Somewhere in the haze he heard Jim's voice, real or imagined though, he didn't know.

Then another shock of pain was shooting through his body, down his limbs, sparking electric currents to his fingertips. He arched his back against the pain, fingers clawing at anything he could grab on to. There was a sickening rise in his throat and he only just managed to roll onto his side before heaving painfully. Each jolting spasm of his stomach emptying itself seemed to feed the fiery licks of pain even more.

The firm touch on his shoulders and the sound of someone calling his name coaxed his consciousness alive, had him searching for the source of the sound and touch. Leonard's eyes connected with a grey shirt spattered with red he suspected belonged to him. He followed the shirt upwards to the man's neck and finally to the familiar face attached to it. Damn, it _was_ Jim. But once Bones' eyes found Jim's unsettling icy blue ones, filled with concern and alarm, he couldn't look way. The eyes grounded him to the present, and for a brief moment, his pain dissolved. Until Jim ran, or rather hobbled, to the bathroom, reappearing with two towels.

That brief reprieve from Jim's sight was all it took for Leonard to regain his control, or as much as he had in his current state. He felt acutely more aware now, especially with Jim moving towards his bleeding wrist. It took a great deal of effort, but Leonard did manage to shake away the gentle hands on his wrist, though with a hiss of pain at the pull of torn skin.

"Bones, please. I need to try to stop the bleeding." Jim's eyes pleaded with that wide-eyed pained look that always made his chest ache. He was never successful at resisting against that look. But he sure as hell had to try. Through pain and fever he only managed to grunt out three words, but he made them as cold as he could muster, hoping it would be enough to get his point across. "Don't. Leave it."

Something unrecognizable flashed briefly across Jim's face before it was replaced with a different look: determination. Determination like Leonard had never seen before, his brows furrowed in such serious concentration that it was a wonder that Jim didn't have an ulcer just from the sheer power behind the look. "I'm not going to leave it alone." Jim paused, swiping his hand across his brow, leaving a red smear there. "Damn it! Leonard Horatio McCoy, I'm not going to sit here and watch you die."

Leonard started at the use of his full name, something he hadn't heard since he'd gotten caught stealing a slice of pecan pie before dinner and was scolded by his eighty-three-year-old grandma. At this point there was no denying that he was doomed and he knew it.

So he didn't even try to protest the second time Jim brought his strong hands to the deep slashes on his wrist. The gentle almost-caress of his touch made Leonard whimper. He hoped Jim thought it was from the pain and not from the close contact or the burn left on his skin from the callused pads of Jim's fingers.

And then Leonard nearly squeaked when he felt strong arms pull his upper half off the ground until he was awkwardly half-sitting in Jim's lap. He tensed for a second before giving in, letting his cheek fall against the soft fabric of Jim's shirt. It smelled nice, even with the biting scent of his own blood wafting around him. In a few short minutes he was completely relaxed against Jim's frame, especially when he was wracked with another spasm and Jim clung to him protectively, whispering things he couldn't make sense of in his ear.

After the throbbing ceased, Leonard remembered little else. The darkness began closing in on him rapidly and Jim's voice became more muddled and distant with each passing second. He remembered talking to Jim, muttering something in half-delirium; God knows what exactly though with unconsciousness creeping in so suddenly. For a short time he struggled against the black, straining to keep the comforting sound of Jim with him as he passed deeper into the dark shadows. Eventually Jim's voice faded until it disappeared completely and he was swallowed by darkness.

Now completely conscious, Leonard registered the unmistakable weight of a warm hand on his thigh. Curiosity overcame him and he finally opened his eyes, a little too quickly. He hissed in pain at the offensive glare coming from the lights before snapping them shut again. Before trying again, he waited for the throbbing in his skull to stop. More prepared this time, he slowly opened both eyes, blinking at the brightness before sweeping his eyes around the room.

Leonard recognized the gleaming sterilized walls of the sickbay immediately and would have kicked himself if he could have. Of course, he _had_ already recognized the place just from the familiar sterile scent which had been his constant companion since his childhood days spent waiting for his dad at the hospital, but he had hoped and prayed that somehow it had just been his senses tricking his brain.

This was the last place he wanted to be, surrounded by the white walls, suffocating from the smothering concern of the members of his staff. There was no way he would ever be able to look them in the face again.

Without moving, he did a quick survey of the room, recognizing it as one of the private rooms usually reserved for the more important diplomats and ambassadors who he sometimes cared for. The only thing different was that to his left there was an extra biobed that someone had pulled into the room, although at the moment it was empty.

Leonard sighed and let the achingly painful feeling of helplessness wash over him. Only he would fail at killing himself. It was just another thing to add to the list. He should've expected it really. As far as doctors go and even just people really, there were far more competent ones than him. People who wouldn't have committed the classic of all errors, the error that he of all people should have known better than do: underestimate Jim Kirk.

But he had, despite the gnawing feeling that he was forgetting something, that one of the variables wasn't accounted for. Damn, he was starting to sound like that walking computer passing as a Vulcan. But he _had _screwed up and he would soon be facing the consequences of his actions, like so many times before. Consequences he hadn't really taken into account before, because there was no way he could fail. He was a doctor and knew exactly where to cut to do the most damage to himself. But he was also a failure and once a failure, always a failure.

Leonard turned his wrist over and stared for a moment at the shiny pink scars gleaming there in the blaring florescent light. A few more times with the dermal regenerator and they would be completely gone. No one would ever know what happened. That is, if the entire damn ship didn't know about the disaster by now, which was impossible to say the least.

Gossip spread like wildfire on a starship like this, especially when they went through long dry spells with no missions and thus were left with little to entertain themselves besides the stories of who was sleeping with whom and what really went on in the Jefferies Tubes on Deck Seven at night. By now, the entire crew probably knew him as "that crazy-ass bastard" instead of "Doctor McCoy". And that was only the smallest of the prices he would have to pay for such a failure.

God, the worst would be Jim, especially if he'd seen the vid-message Leonard recorded for him. And because it was Jim, the annoying prying bastard that he was, Leonard could safely say that Jim had probably seen it already. Perfect. The cataclysmic ending to the entire fiasco.

Leonard groaned and lifted his hand to rub the bridge of his nose. Or at least he tried to, but damn, his arm felt a lot heavier than he remembered and the motion made his muscles quiver with exhaustion. He really did know how to fuck up his body. In the end, the gesture wasn't worth the effort and he let his arm flop back uselessly at his side.

The movement caused the head resting near his hip (pointedly ignored until that moment) to stir and the hand around his thigh to tighten infinitesimally. He turned his attention to the long callused fingers and didn't have to ask who the hand belonged to, even though the face of the blond man was turned away from him.

The last thing he really wanted from Jim right now was a confrontation about what had happened. There was nothing to talk about. He wanted out. That was it. And the message was only going to make things worse. Leonard didn't want to think about the rejection just yet. He didn't want to see the look on Jim's face when he told Leonard that, while he was flattered by the whole thing, he didn't have any feelings beyond friendship for him.

It didn't help that now that he _knew _that it was Jim by his side, he was suddenly hypersensitive to that hand burning into his thigh. And then there was the desperate longing to feel that scorching heat of Jim's hands running all over his body.

The burning conflict of emotions within him was making his chest ache. He wanted so badly the one thing he couldn't have and it only made that deep pang of despair filling him worse.

Leonard needed to put some distance between the two of them before he really lost it. He willed his muscles to work and eventually managed to remove himself from Jim's grasp and move as far over as the small biobed would allow. A sharp pain shot through his abdomen as he moved, but it was worth a little pain to have put just that little space between them.

Unfortunately, Jim's hand seemed to miss the warmth previously underneath it. Leonard watched as Jim's fingers snaked out, gently investigating the surrounding area for warm flesh. Finding none, the man jolted awake immediately to figure out what was amiss.

In an instant Jim's piercing blue eyes found Leonard's face. When their eyes finally connected, Jim's looked suspiciously wet, but those couldn't be tears ready to slide down his cheeks. But sure enough, in a few short seconds, wet tracks appeared on his face and Leonard couldn't help but feel his throat tighten at the sight. As close as they were as friends, crying was not on the list of things they did together often. Or, ever actually when Leonard thought about it.

With a choked "Bones" Jim launched himself on top of Leonard's chest, tightening his arms around his torso and burying his face into his neck. Leonard was taken aback and, after a moment, realized the kid was speaking to him, but his words were garbled thanks to the obviously good painkillers Leonard was on and the sobbing man that was apparently Jim. He struggled in vain to make sense of the bits he picked out.

"Bones don't you ever… thought you weren't…never told you…"

He let this continue for a few minutes, but eventually, Leonard had taken all he could stand of it. Because, after a brief moment of shock at Jim's actions, the urges he was trying so hard to keep at bay were coming back. And damn it, it was only throwing him further into his depression, knowing that if he were to steal a kiss from Jim's perfect lips the man would be gone before he'd get a word out.

Jim was calming down so he could get off and leave him alone. Either way, that was where their conversation would be headed, with him alone again, as depressing as it would be. He nudged Jim, or tried to, once again because his limbs still weren't cooperating the way he would have liked. So instead he swallowed around the dry hoarseness in his throat and forced it to work.

It took a couple of tries, but he finally managed to say quite forcefully, "Off Jim."

When Jim didn't move he protested louder. "Off damn it!"

Jim jumped out of his arms. He took a step back and looked hurt.

"Bones?" he said quietly, "What's the matter?"

Leonard might've laughed at such a dumb question if he was in a better mood. But he wasn't, so he replied with as much energy as he could muster, "Jim just leave me alone. I don't want you here."

"I will not just leave you alone. You could've died." Jim rubbed away the remaining moisture on his cheeks with a quick swipe of those strong fingers. Leonard tried not to stare too hard at them and focused on responding as coherently as possible.

"That was the general idea."

"I know that was the idea. Forgive me for not being ready to lose my best friend yet, especially because he's dumb enough to think that his life is worth nothing and that he has no one left who cares about him."

Leonard grimaced. He had hoped they could have waited a little while at least to have this heart to heart, perhaps until never, but then, Jim was never really one to beat around the bush. Of course, just because Jim wanted to talk, didn't mean _he _had to.

"Jim, can we talk about this later?"

"Bones, I'm not going to just forget about this."

"I know," he sighed, doing his best to ignore that aching longing. "I just…I don't want to," he finished lamely. How could Leonard explain to Jim about how it felt to have his whole world gone in a flash, to be left frightened and alone in the dark? He couldn't.

"I know you don't Bones, but it's like you always tell me. Sometimes you have to do things you don't want to."

Leonard didn't answer, because he _did _say that to Jim. Quite often, in fact. But it didn't change the fact that he wasn't ready to have his heart broken again.

"I'm not going to judge you, if that's what you're worried about. I'm your best friend, and, well, I'm here for you." Jim looked mildly uncomfortable saying those words. Leonard wondered why; especially since he had just finished leaving wet tear tracks on his chest.

"I just don't want to talk about it." Leonard knew it was foolish to believe that if he kept repeating this, eventually Jim would just give up and go away, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Really though, this was just an exercise in futility. They would just go back and forth until one or both of them exploded and that wasn't going to be a pretty sight.

"Fine. You don't have to talk about it. Just listen." Jim paused. Leonard could feel those perfect blue eyes watching him, even with his own eyes pointedly fixed on the rough blanket in his lap. "I was worried about you. You can't just do something like that to me."

Leonard finally felt that painful despair in his chest twist into a slowly bubbling, irrational anger. Why the hell did Jim even care? He would never be alone, even if Leonard was gone because Jim could easily get anyone he wanted on the whole damn ship. He would never know what it felt like to feel utterly lost and abandoned in the chaos of a life spinning away from his control.

"Damn it Jim," Leonard cried, finally meeting Jim's eyes to give him what he hoped was his death glare. "What part of 'leave me alone' do you not understand?"

"I promised I wouldn't leave. I'm trying to keep my promise," Jim replied calmly.

"You're keeping promises now Jim? Finally growing up and taking responsibility? Well, save yourself the effort. I _don't_ want you here."

"Why not Bones? What is it? Just tell me."

"Because damn it Jim, you don't know what it's like to feel your whole world collapsing around you, and all you can do is stand there and watch it go down because everything you try to do ends up being like throwing water on a grease fire. It only gets worse. And in the end all you want to do is throw yourself into that mess and be done with it before it takes you first." Leonard stopped and was breathing hard now, heart thumping loudly in time with the anger pulsing through him.

"I understand what that's like probably better than anyone else on this ship," Jim protested quietly. The look on his face wasn't the usual pouty look he got when disagreeing with something Leonard said, but rather a serious look, eyebrows pulled down a little bit. The look didn't suit Jim at all.

"How Jim? I know I know. Your life is so hard," Leonard retorted acerbically. "Cushy job as a starship captain. And not on just any ship, but the flagship of the Federation. Not to mention that you're the biggest goddamn flirt I've ever seen and you always get whatever the hell you want. How could _you_ possibly know what I'm feeling? Huh?"

Leonard hated the fact that _he _was the one to finally explode. He hated feeling an anger that was almost dangerously out of control, hands shaking despite being clenched tightly into fists at his sides.

He watched as Jim's face went stony save for the muscles in his jaw tightening, his own knuckles white as they curled into fists. They were almost mirror images of each other, carefully subduing the worst of the rage but still pretty damn pissed off.

"What the hell do you know? God, I thought you might understand me. I guess I was wrong. You think my life is easy? Yeah, it was easy with my abusive stepfather around, easy getting my ass kicked in every day since I was six until I was old enough to get the hell out of there. And it's easy to be—raped by the man. All you have to do is lie there and take it." He paused to take in the look on Leonard's face, then continued. "You're always asking me where the scars came from. Well now you know."

"Jim—"

Jim held up his hand to silence the other man. "Just don't," he replied, shaking his head and before proceeding to walk out.

Leonard could only stare as the only man he truly considered a friend stalked out of the room. He felt like a first rate asshole. There was no way to take back what he said to Jim, the one man who apparently _did _understand how he felt. How could he have not known, never even suspected that Jim had been—abused. Leonard forced himself to think the word then swallowed it down with his disgust. And _he _was the ship's Chief Medical Officer as well as counselor. Perfect. He was doing great with that job.

But the absolute worst part about the whole situation was that he couldn't go after Jim. Even if he was in good health there would be no way he could haul his ass around the ship looking for a man who was a master at hiding when he didn't want to be found. And now Leonard knew why. Jim had probably been a champion hide-and-seek player growing up, disappearing when he didn't want to be found by that cruel hand under which he suffered.

So instead Leonard was left there staring at the blank ceiling, contemplating all the ways in which he was a royal fuck-up.

His wallowing was interrupted by the sound of someone entering the room. He turned his head towards the door, hoping futilely that it was Jim. He needn't have bothered. It was only Christine, and though she was his head nurse and probably most trusted colleague, Leonard wasn't in any mood to deal with her either. Sometimes she could be a stubborn pain in his ass. Of course, she had learned that from him, so he really had no one to blame but himself. She turned to him, trapping his eyes in her own.

"Oh, you're finally awake." She moved to push the button he knew would page whichever doctor was on duty. Looking around the room, she took in the empty bed beside Leonard's and frowned. "Where's the captain?"

_He ran out after I told him that he's never known what it's like to have your world fall apart. Only then I learned that my best friend of five years was abused both physically and sexually by his stepfather growing up. _

Leonard decided that probably wasn't the best thing to say to her, even if he could trust her not to say anything to any other member of the crew. He decided on a tamer version of the truth. "We argued. He left."

"What? Why'd you let him leave?" She looked pissed, and not just pissed, but pissed at Leonard, something he didn't like to see too often. He couldn't understand exactly why though. Jim was free to do as he pleased and there really just no stopping him sometimes. Still, Christine looked less than delighted with him.

"How was I supposed to stop him? I'm not exactly in top shape right now. And anyway, he's a grown man. He can do whatever the hell he wants."

"Not when he's in the care of my sickbay, he's not."

"Your sickbay?" he protested.

"Yes, _my _sickbay. When you go and pull a stunt like that, this becomes _my_ sickbay."

They were interrupted by a middle-aged balding doctor clearing his throat awkwardly in the doorway. Leonard recognized him as the new replacement Starfleet had just sent them. _What was his name? Mayhew? Melvin? Mehin? Yeah, it was definitely Mehin. _Chapel didn't seem too thrilled at his presence, even though she herself had just requested it.

"Not now!" she snapped at him.

"But I need to just check on—"

"I said, not now!"

Mehin just stared at her, completely stunned into silence. It was obvious that he wasn't used to being talked to in such a way, especially not from a nurse. He obviously didn't know this particular head nurse very well. Leonard felt a swell of pride at the thought that she could reduce this man, who was technically her superior, into a stammering child. She would make a damn good doctor someday, if she wanted.

"You want to make yourself useful? Go find the captain. He's off prancing around the ship somewhere like the idiot that he is."

Mehin wisely took her suggestion and scurried out the way he came, eyes wide in apparent horror. Leonard turned back to the petite woman before him, noting the concerned look on her face. And suddenly he remembered what she said and concern filled him too.

"Jim's in your care?"

"Yes," she said with a tired sigh, running a slim hand across her forehead.

"What did he do now?" he asked, fearing the worst.

"Don't jump to conclusions. This time he happened to save your life. You did a hell of a job on yourself. We managed to repair all the damage except in your liver, which seemed to have some previous damage done to it already. We had to remove it and the captain insisted on being a live donor. He gave you a piece of his." She nodded solemnly after this.

Leonard felt his stomach tighten at her words. He was currently sitting with a piece of Jim Kirk's liver inside him. Whatever possessed Jim to be a live donor, Leonard didn't know. Despite his surprise, he managed to retort the same way he would when he didn't approve of something Jim did, even though this time he might have been a little touched by Jim's actions.

"He what? Damn fool."

"He's no damn fool. Well, yes, he is actually, but he cares about you a lot."

"Right," he retorted coldly.

"Leonard, you didn't see his face. You didn't have to see the look in his eyes when we brought you in or when we told him your liver was gone. He was willing to do anything to save you. Hell, he would have held your hand throughout the entire surgery if Mehin let him. He's an ass, by the way."

"Mehin or Jim?" Leonard asked.

"Well, that depends on the day, but I was talking about Mehin. He pretty much insulted your friendship and Kirk was this close to throwing him out of an airlock." She motioned with about a centimeter between her fingers.

"Leave it to Jim."

"Yes, leave it to the captain." Christine sighed. "But Leonard, the man's feelings run pretty deep for you. I've seen Jim Kirk after hundreds of Away Missions. I've seen him battered and bruised and bleeding out, I've seen the look on his face after he's lost another crew member and he feels guilty because he believes it was his personal responsibility to take care of the kid. But I have never seen him so completely scared in my entire life. And I don't ever want to see that look on his face ever again. He just looked so…lost when we told him the outlook wasn't good."

Leonard had no reply ready for these statements and a mutual silence settled over them both as Christine moved to examine him. She only spoke to ask him a question about how he felt, did this hurt or whatever. He responded tersely to each question.

Despite sleeping for so long already, by the time Christine finished, Leonard was feeling drowsy again. His eyes closed of their own accord. Before drifting back to sleep, he felt her hand brushing his hair away from his forehead as she whispered softly in his ear.

"He loves you Leonard. We all do, but Jim most of all."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Leonard awoke sometime later to find Spock just sitting down in the chair next to his bed. He couldn't help noticing that it was the same chair Jim had occupied earlier.

"I apologize for waking you, Doctor. It was not my intention to disturb your sleep." Despite Spock's cordiality (which was how he _always_ was), Leonard felt no need to use that gentlemanly Southern civility that he was raised with.

He swallowed against the cottony feeling in his mouth that told him he'd embarrassingly enough, been sleeping with his mouth open before replying.

"What the hell are you doing here? Come to harass me too? Question my sanity maybe?"

That damn eyebrow twitched slightly. "No, Doctor. And I can assure you that no one on board the Enterprise believes that you crazy."

"Bullshit. You can't be telling me that the gossip-whores aren't having a field day with this one."

"Once again, I assure you that there are no rumors circulating regarding your actions or the motives behind them."

Leonard felt his own eyebrow skyrocket upward. "That's impossible."

"It is not impossible, merely improbable on a ship this size," Spock replied, somehow managing to sound smug in that emotionless Vulcan way of his. Either that or it was all just in Leonard's imagination. He didn't know.

"Fine, improbable then," he amended. "I still don't believe you."

"It is of your own accord that you choose to deem my words as truth or falsehood, but I must inform you that I am incapable of lying." Spock folded his hands together in his lap.

"And how do you expect me to believe that every person on this damn ship isn't having fun talking about 'that crazy-ass doctor of ours'?"

"No one knows about the events that transpired aside from the captain, the medical team, Nyota and me."

"What?" his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How?"

"Each member of the medical team is of course sworn to protect a patient's confidentiality. And the captain threatened to, I believe his words were 'castrate them and send their genitalia out of the airlock' if he suspected anyone else knew. He also enlisted my help in quelling the rumors. The crew knows that you were involved in a near-fatal accident occurring while sparring with the captain. We also informed them that you have not been awake for any substantial period of time, but it was your wish to remain undisturbed until your release from sickbay."

Apparently Jim Kirk was full of surprises today. Of course it was making Leonard regret more and more his harsh words to Jim, but all he could really do was wait until Jim got back and try to make amends. He couldn't count on Jim forgiving him. Hell, he wouldn't blame Jim if he didn't. But he had to try at least.

Leonard heard the sound of Christine's voice reprimanding someone. Spock fidgeted for a second before ultimately rising.

"If you will excuse me, Doctor. I am currently needed elsewhere. I hope that you continue to have a speedy recovery." Then he briskly walked out the door, looking suspiciously like he was trying to make an escape.

It seemed that Mehin wasn't the only one intimidated by Chapel. Something to note for future use. Her words became clearer as she got nearer.

"You shouldn't be gallivanting around the ship in your condition. It takes time to heal from surgery, even with every medical advance we've made."

The patient made a noise in protest, but was cut off. "No buts. You have a fever. Now get into bed."

Leonard looked up to see Christine dragging Jim through the door with a firm grip around his arm. She let go and Jim slowly made his way to the empty bed on the other side of the room, grumbling all the way. They both watched as he begrudgingly got into bed and folded his arms across his chest in an obvious pout.

Christine waited until Jim was settled before addressing them both. "If I see either of you out of bed, so help me I will strap you down to keep you there." Then she turned on her heel and walked out.

There was moment of silence before Jim spoke. "Geez Bones, your nurses are mean."

"Nah, they're just immune to your charms," he retorted. He turned to see Jim smiling lightly at that. After a second, it slid off his face and Leonard continued. "She told me you gave me a piece of your liver.

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "But I'm thinking that if you're gonna continue to be an asshole, I want it back." Despite the harshness of the words, they had no bite to them. Even still, the guilt welling in the pit of Leonard's stomach rose again.

"Jim, I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said." He shook his head.

"I know." Then there was another silent pause, which was surprisingly more awkward than the conversation until Jim broke it.

"I saw the video." Guilt and embarrassment washed over Leonard, but he replied.

"I thought you might've," he admitted.

Jim's blue eyes caught his own across the room before he spoke again. "I was so angry with myself for not being there for you, especially when you really needed me."

He couldn't take back the "I love you", could he? No, but he had to say something before getting crushed. "Jim, about what I said—"

"Bones, I'm not done. If I don't get this out now, I may never say it. When you said you loved me, I was…surprised honestly and a little horrified." Leonard felt the familiar sinking feeling in his stomach as he prepared for the inevitable rejection.

It must have shown on his face, because Jim was quick to add, "Horror because you were dying and I was so afraid of living with one more regret.

And then that Mehin guy said that without a new liver, you wouldn't survive and I knew that I couldn't just sit back and watch my best friend die. So I let them take a piece of mine. After the surgery, they said you might never wake up. Your case has no precedence you know and the readings were just so fucked up." Leonard _did _know. That was why he chose to do what he did.

"I just sat there by your side, feeling completely helpless, but what else could I do? And when you finally opened your eyes a few hours ago, I don't think I've ever been more relieved in my entire life." Jim paused to lick his lips and sweep his hand across his face.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is don't you ever scare me like that ever again. Because I don't know what I would do if I ever lost you Bones."

Leonard suddenly realized that sometime in his speech, Jim had gotten up and crossed the room. He was currently sitting on the edge of Leonard's bed and Leonard got the first really good look at him.

Jim's hair was mussed like he hadn't been able to keep his hands out of it, tugging at it like he sometimes did when he was stressed. His skin looked almost whiter than the clean walls surrounding them. There was a light sheen of sweat covering his forehead and his eyes didn't seem quite as bright as they burned with fever. Leonard surveyed the dark purplish shadows under those feverish eyes and noticed the brief flash of pain pass through them as Jim moved closer.

"Jim, you look terrible. And you should be in bed. You heard Chapel." No, Leonard wasn't afraid of Chapel actually making good on her threat. Nor was he worried about his self control with Jim sitting so close to him. That's what he told himself, anyway.

"Bones, this is serious. Resting can wait." He reached out and stoked the back of Leonard's hand with the pad of his thumb. "I'm trying to tell you I love you too."

As much as Leonard wanted to hear those words, had been dreaming of them for so long, now that Jim said them, he couldn't bring himself to believe them. A part of him wanted to, oh did it ever, but there was still that piece of him that couldn't help thinking that Jim was only telling him what he wanted to hear. He sighed, gloominess settling over him again.

"It's okay, Jim. You don't have to pretend."

"I'm not pretending," he replied calmly. "I can see why you'd think that but don't worry about it. I'll prove it to you in time." Jim squeezed Leonard's hand lightly then leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. And then another and another until he had kissed a light trail to the corner of Leonard's lips. Then he leaned in closer and softly pressed his lips against Leonard's in a warm gentle kiss. Leonard stopped himself from leaning into it or deepening it, even as a cold shiver ran through him.

"Now rest." Jim ordered and stood up to return to his side of the room, leaving Bones there with his lips still tingling. "I'm here if you need me," he said before climbing back into bed and settling back under the sheets.

Leonard found himself wide awake long after Jim's breathing evened out in deep slumber, pondering Jim's uncharacteristically open behavior. It was either the honest truth, or Jim was just telling him what he wanted to hear in a desperate attempt to keep him alive. Trying to figure out which it was only made Leonard's head hurt, so he finally did as Jim said and eventually managed to roll onto his side turning away from Jim, not caring that it took more energy than normal to do so. He let his eyes fall closed and couldn't help but feel a little safer knowing Jim was across the room from him and would still be there when he woke up. The rest he'd figure out later.

Another note: Oh, and guys, I really appreciate all of you who are humoring me and reading this. And commenting. It really makes my day, so thank you thank you thank you everyone.


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